Friday, October 19, 2012

A Lover, Not A Fighter

Yesterday was a crazy bitch. My walk left me in so much pain I could barely hobble. And my not-a-skin-cancer-surgical-site hurt. And I had to go to town and had five stops I had to make. FIVE! Jesus, damn, it was rough.

I know. I am SUCH A WUSSY! Well, yes, I am. So what?

My first stop was at Lily's because she was out of toilet paper and a mother may not be able to solve every problem her child has but she can sure do something about toilet paper. And so I did. And I sat and visited with Lily and the boys for awhile and I cuddled Gibson and kissed him and let him bounce in my lap and watched Lily throwing Owen up in the air over her head the way she does and he kicks and screams and laughs and loves it. I can't even imagine what it must be like to have a mama like Lily. She's so strong and so loving. I doubt there's an hour of the day if you add it all up that she's not holding one of those boys. Or both.

I had to drag my ass out of the chair, finally, after about ten more "just one more" kisses and head back out to run my errands and I went to a shop for a birthday present and the library and the Costco and then, finally, my last stop, Publix.

Where shopping is a pleasure. 
That's their motto. And I agree. Everyone at Publix is so damn nice. Well, the employees. And I don't know who's doing the hiring these days but every young male who works there seems to have the prettiest eyes. I've never in my life seen such a concentrated group of beautiful-eyed boys. I have to shut my mouth from telling every one of them how beautiful their eyes are. I don't want to come off as creepy, you know? Plus, Lily works there which would make it doubly creepy somehow. 
But still. I look. I appreciate. 

I came home and unloaded everything and attended to some laundry and made a shot of espresso because I was dying and put everything away and washed the dishes that were in the sink and started supper and then Mr. Moon came home and we had our Friday night martinis a night early because he isn't going to be here tonight and okay, here's what I really wanted to talk about.

We were talking about anger and violence and he said that he was so grateful that he'd never been filled with such rage that he'd been violent against another person. And then he said, "Well, you know about that meeting."
"What meeting?"
"The one my mom and dad had when I was born."
If I'd ever heard the story, I'd forgotten about it. So he told me.
"When I was born, my mom and dad had a meeting and the question was, 'Do we make him a lover or a fighter?' and they decided on lover."

Now believe me, Mr. Moon's parents were not hippies. His father never finished middle school, as far as I know and I'm not sure his mother graduated from high school. They worked as hard as two humans could work their entire lives doing everything from farming to running a gas station and repair shop. Glen's daddy was, at various times a carpenter, a mechanic, and a cop, just to mention a few. They were poor and they raised three kids and what they did have was a completely overwhelming desire to raise those kids the best they could and give them every advantage that they could and I don't mean fancy clothes, either. I, opportunity, love and support. 
Love above all.
And they decided when their baby boy was born that it would be for the best if they didn't raise him to be a bully or mean or a fighter but to be loving. 

Can you imagine? 

And they did. 

I'm pondering that one today. And I'm thinking how incredibly grateful I am to be married to a lover, not a fighter. A man who can hug and kiss on his grandboys with as much unabashed affection as I can. Who is simply and truly kind. 
Oh sure. The man can and does stand his ground and I've seen him deal with some threatening characters but I've never seen him punch anyone or even get into a heated argument with anyone but me and that hasn't happened very often, even though there have been times in my life when I would have caused Gandhi to abandon his principles of non-violence. 

Well, that lover of a man has gone off to hunt and that may sound like a violence of sorts but no, for him it's the quick-killing of meat and mostly it's sitting in a deer blind listening to audio books and watching the woodland creatures. Haha! He was so happy when he left this morning and now I've got this day before me where I'm cooking my traditional postpartum meal to take to Molly and her husband this afternoon. My traditional postpartum meal consists of a salad, the recipe a very old one from Southern Living full of iron and protein and which involves beef and spinach and mushrooms and a dressing that is a SIN but dammit, women who have just given birth deserve all the sinful goodness they can get, and a loaf of Challah because it is beautiful and always rises as high and light as angels' wings, shiny with egg yolk, and a prune cake because it's delicious and if you've ever pushed out a baby you know the value of prunes afterwards. 

I use actual recipes for all these things which is not the way I normally cook but this meal is a ritual giving and I want to get it right. Lily and I were talking about this salad the other day and she said that it was almost worth going through labor to get it. 

I hope it is for Molly, too. 

When Mr. Moon was leaving, he told me to tell Molly that he sends his love and wishes for her to have a wonderful life with her baby. And then he kissed me one more time and drove off. 

I wish I could tell his parents that I've had a wonderful life with their baby. Who grew up to be a lover, not a fighter because of the meeting they had and the decision they came to together. 
And of course because the man is naturally a peaceful soul, I think, and also, men who are as tall as my husband don't need to put on a veneer of physical threat. Which is one of their blessings. That and being able to see everything that's going on.

All right. This hasn't really come out the way I wanted it to but my mind is in the kitchen, mashing prunes and kneading dough and slicing beef and mushrooms and onions and cooking brown-sugar icing so I'll let it go. I just wanted to get that down, the part about his parents having a meeting. In these days when bullying and violence are so much a part of our world, I wish that every parent would have a meeting like that. Oh, no, it's not that simple. But by god, it's a wonderful start. To completely and clearly define such a desire and then to try and make it happen with love. 

Happy Friday, y'all.

Love...Ms. Moon


  1. I love this story -- it makes me think of my two boys and all the loving they get and give. Sigh. I'm grateful.

    P.S. And is that beef salad recipe ONLY for women who've just given birth or is it something that I can make and eat myself?

  2. Lovely post, and the song that popped into my head as I pondered you making those wonderful recipes to give with joy and you and Mr. Moon and Lily and the boys... the Beatles, All You Need is Love. Yep, that't the soundtrack to this one.


  3. Lovely post. Mr M's parents sounds wonderful. As does your post birth dinner, how good of you xx

  4. You got the story down just fine. The way you talk about the Mister Moon, we readers out here can't help loving him as well, so you know you are doing your writer and wife jobs well. And what a heartfelt, hand made gift to give the new parents. Sending love. N2

  5. I think you made me fall in love with my husband a little more today. He is so much like you described, and so tall too. Good stuff., Mrs. Moon.

  6. Prunes and figs can save your life. I wish you were my mother.

  7. Damn I wish I knew which one I was, seeing as how I'd fight for love and love to fight.
    And also, when I've commented on the young employees' eyes at Publix, it's rarely come across as a compliment... it usually solicits a sort of, did-I-just-vomit-in-my-mouth look from the young bag boys.
    The girls though...

  8. Love is a good place to start. What an amazing way to enter the world. xo

  9. Elizabeth- Yep. I thought of your boys too when Glen told me that story.
    And of course other people can eat that salad but mostly it would be appropriate for starving people who need TONS of fat and sugar. Yes. Fat and sugar. And meat. And bacon. Oh, bacon is meat.
    I'll send you the recipe if you want it because it is really, really good.

    Mel- Amen. Good choice of a soundtrack.
    For anything.

    Jo- I am not very good at presents but I am good at cooking. Glen's parents were wonderful. We miss them all the time.

    N2- Well, some of my posts are not nearly as neat or writerly as I would like but that's okay. This is my life, not a book.

    Dayna- I'm glad you got a lover too.

    Darling Rebecca- I would be if I could be. Maybe next time? Who knows how these things work?

    Magnum- You are perfect in your own balance. I know you are. Now quit complimenting the Publix employees on their eyes! You're going to have to change Publixes and you know how upsetting that is.

    Rachel- A very, very good way I think.

  10. I am not a fighter either. In fact, I really don't like fights or even raw anger. But I wil stand up for myself.

  11. What a great story! (The lover vs. fighter meeting, I mean.)

    Publix is the best grocery store ever. One of the things I missed most when I moved to New York from Florida was Publix. We have a store here in England that's very similar, called Waitrose -- but still, nothing makes me happier when I visit my parents than stepping into their neighborhood Publix. And the entire company is family- and employee-owned, which I think is pretty awesome.


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